Those Who Are Cursed
by OniHime
Summary: (Rated for inquired language)Dib has fallen victim to his own depression and has solved his greatest problem for the time being. His answer: Death. His problem: Gaz


_Those Who Are Cursed_

Chapter 1:   
Well-come?

_Is this it? Is... is this the answer that I've been waiting for? But this can't be it... this... it just can't..._

Dib's thoughts ran wild as he looked about. Nothingness. Absolute nothingness. No light and no dark. No shadows to plague him, and no lights to guide him.

_This can't be..._

..._the afterlife._

Dib looked down to see that he harbored no body. He went to move his non-existent hands, but nothing came. Only a numb feeling throughout what would be his body gave him mixed senses.

A third person view into the massive void of absentees. A first person view, being something that was and was not.

He felt himself stretch until he could stretch no more. Being everywhere at once in this darkness.

He knew everything, saw everything that went on there... here, in this place. Yet nothing _did_ go on. Nothingness _did_ go on as far as his being could reach.

_I've waited for so long... and this... is what I've been waiting for?_

Waiting, waiting, waiting... Dib had been waiting for so long for it to end. All the madness.

Ever since she had been old enough to even stand... wait, no. Even before that, Gaz had always tormented her older brother. Scratching, pinching, hitting him, always. Insulting him and punishing him for nothing. Taunting and beating him restlessly. Going so far as to call him a 'mistake' and another one of the Professor's experiments gone horribly wrong.

From such abuse, Dib fell into depression. Therapist after therapist asked him questions about suicide and the green boy living on Shire Court. Large doses of medication, of course, were prescribed to him.

A never-ending cycle of pain and suffering.

From this, he sought death. The permanent answer to all his prayers.

Sure, it had stung his throat when he drank the pink plastic bottle labeled Nail Polish Remover. It had burned his stomach while the non-acetone fluid ate threw its soft tissues. And it certainly marred his innards when he threw up half his stomach onto the bathroom floor.

Dib's ghost had hovered over his soiled body a few moments before he was ripped apart by unseen hands and thrown into oblivion.

_I guess that's what this is then..._

_But wait! What's that?_

From far away, and very close, something appeared. A small frame of light faded into existence. Soon enough, it started to grow. It was as big as a football field after its growth spurt, though size could not be defined in this place.

The frame was now a massive arched door. Ancient golden designs twirled and twisted upon its self, giving its twin doors an old Victorian look. Around it, a soft red glow ensued, the source of such light unknown behind its rusty hinges.

As it was, it slowly crept open, fire and brimstone shown in all its hellish glory.

**Dib...**

There came a voice, deep and rich.

**Come. Step inside. I would very much like to talk to you.**

* * *

The mystical golden gates of Hell slammed shut.

Just before the gates, staring transfixed at the billowing spires of flames around him, a young boy appeared out of thin air.

Muffled laughter was heard in the back ground, and a tall, horned boy of 15 stepped into view. He smirked.

"Hola, there." He smiled at the scythe-haired boy looking about, then to him.

"Where am I?"

"Hell."

"Oh... Could'a fooled me."

Silence was the middle man in this conversation.

Pepito just stood there, arms crossed, admiring the features of Dib.

Sadly enough, Dib didn't wear the trench coat we all love so much anymore. That part of his being had been stripped away only a few weeks before to be used as sewing material for a costume his dear sister 'needed so badly'.

His usual baggy blue shirt was stained with red vomit, while his black jeans remained pure and clean. Red leakage dripped from his nose and from the side of his mouth.

"Well..." started Pepito, present ruler of the underworld. He didn't know exactly what to say. He had never really welcomed anyone to Hell before. Especially one who was suppose to be ?"

* * *

Okay. I know what you're thinking. 'WHAT THE H3LL IS THIS SH17?!' But this is only the beginning of yet another story that I hope will get finished but probably won't.

Inspired by a friend I've started to grow fond of, though I don't even know him. So thanks, Dibsthe1. And hope the new fic is just as great as your other ones.

Anyways, if there are any grammatical errors, blame my correcting committee. It's their job to fix that kind of stuff on the drafts, since both my computer and I suck at finding and correcting my mistakes.

As for the next chapter, it might be a bit odd as well. For you Dib fans, don't hate me. Dib's death has meaning. For what, you MIGHT find out if I get to finish this thing. I hope so. I really do. I have it all planned out this time.

Sorry for the A/N. It won't be as long next time. Hopefully.

Oh yeah... REVIEWS!! Please, tell me I'm good, tell me I need work, tell me I SOMETHING!! BUT, if you don't like, don't review. Thanks a bunch for reading. Chow!

OniHime


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